


Christmas in the Room

by coolangelsthesis



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Christmas Eve, Cooking, Finger Sucking, First Christmas, Fluff and Smut, Gift Fic, M/M, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolangelsthesis/pseuds/coolangelsthesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koujaku and Aoba properly celebrate their Christmas together. Koujaku's wishes are simple: he wants a homemade meal made by Aoba.<br/>Aoba tries-- to the best of his abilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas in the Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dakuran](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Dakuran).



> This is my DMMD Secret Santa gift for [dakuran](http://dakuran.tumblr.com/)! You asked for a kouao smutfic and, well, this is like 50/50 fluff and smut. I got a little carried away...  
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful holiday!
> 
> I have never wrote kouao before this so this was... interesting. It was a nice challenge writing something out of my comfort zone. Thank you so much to [Larissa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ceilingfan5), [Lauren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingwithdestiny), and [Lu](http://asakonoe.tumblr.com/) for helping me out, I appreciate all your help and advice!

“Ah… oh no…”

The time on Aoba’s Coil couldn’t be right. Something in his machine must have gone haywire and skipped a couple hours. He checked again for good measure and, indeed, the time it told wasn’t a lie. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach.

He had been so caught up finishing the rest of his deliveries for the day that he had lost track of time. Since Oval Tower fell, a huge chunk of Old Resident District was under construction for maintenance, in an attempt to bring the old and worn down areas back to life. That meant that most of Aoba’s shortcuts were blocked off, impassable lest he wanted to run in with someone telling him he shouldn’t be there. Instead, he had to take the long ways around, with came with it unnecessary walking that made his legs ache.

On any other day he wouldn’t mind it if he worked late, until the sun had begun to set or later. He would have been out anyway, either catching up with old friends or taking his time getting back home to Granny’s.

But today was different. Today he had a date.

A couple of weeks ago, when Aoba was spending the night at Koujaku’s, he had a realization. It was December, and that meant that Christmas was fast approaching.

While he had never felt the need to celebrate Christmas in the past, something had started to make him think otherwise. Christmas Eve was reserved for the lovers, to show each other how much they cared. Aoba used to roll his eyes whenever he walked past overly done advertisements or displays… but now.

Now he was in a serious relationship, and it felt fitting to celebrate the holiday right. He wanted to spend a romantic night with the one he loved.  When he brought up the idea with Koujaku and he agreed full heartedly-- almost  _ too  _ enthusiastically. Well, he figured, at least Koujaku was looking forward to their date as much as he was.

That is, if he could manage to get there on time.

“Ren,” he said, turning around to face his Allmate. He may have already checked the time twice, but who knows—maybe he was seeing things. “What time is it?”   
“Right now it is 6:45.”   
“… Is that so.”

So his clock wasn’t lying. He thought he had been doing good on time; he’d been keeping mind of the time throughout the day, trying in earnest to use it at wisely as possible. But perhaps time wooshed by due to the fact that he’d been a little too sidetracked in his plans for the upcoming night. He also had to admit the obvious spring in his step as he went through his deliveries. As embarrassing as the thought was, spending a  _ real  _ Christmas like the one he had seen on television made his heart do gymnastics.

He wanted their night to be as special as possible, no matter what.

The week before their date, he asked Koujaku what he wanted as a gift. The idea had completely passed his mind and he’d began to fret, worrying that he wouldn’t be able to find something in time. 

However, Koujaku’s request was surprisingly simple: all he a wanted a meal made by Aoba. A homemade meal - whatever he wanted to make - shared together at his house.

... As embarrassing as that was, he could easily fulfil such a simple request. He wasn’t the greatest of cooks, but he had Tae to help him, so even if he made something charred halfway to hell it could be somewhat tolerable. Probably.

He felt a little guilty for not getting him something else, though—a bottle of sake, maybe. Or a new pair of scissors, though he knew little to nothing about what sort of things stylists should and should not do with hair. To make up for that guilt, he planned to make Koujaku the greatest meal he could.

But first he needed to hurry back home, gather up ingredients for dinner Tae had helped him pick out, then hightail it to Koujaku’s.

With a sigh, he kneeled down, ruffling up his Allmate’s fur. “How long will it take us to get to Granny’s?”   
“The upcoming street is a clear path to Tae-san’s house,” Ren replied, puffy tail swooshing back and forth. “It should take approximately seven minutes.”

“I bet if we hurry, we could get there in five. Alright, let’s go!” Aoba stood back up, taking bold, confident strides in the direction of his Granny’s house, with Ren struggling to catch up behind him.

*

Aoba rang on Koujaku’s doorbell once. No response. For telling him to get here at such a specific time, Koujaku really didn’t plan ahead. Was he setting up something… something in the _ bedroom _ ?

Aoba tried to disguise the flush on his cheeks by ringing the bell again, and he heard the shuffling of feet creeping closer. If he didn’t start moving any faster, he’d toss one of these heavy bags of groceries directly at his stupid head…

“Ah, Aoba! Just a minute!” Koujaku’s deep voice called out to him—and Aoba  _ swore _ he could hear Koujaku tidying up his living room. Somehow that thought made his heart swell.

Then footsteps approached closer, and the front door swung open. Koujaku’s handsome grin welcomed him, and filled his stomach with a thousand fluttering butterflies. He tried to smile back to disguise how flustered he was.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, pointing with his eyes down to the bags in his hands. “I had to get some things for dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Then, before Aoba could react, Koujaku moved in, arms wrapping around him, pulling him into a sweeping kiss.

… Aoba lingered for one, two, four seconds before shock came over him and he broke apart with a loud gasp-- he definitely didn’t contribute to that he pushing deeper into that kiss. Not at all.    
He forcefully shoved Koujaku’s chest to pry him away.

“N-Not here! N-Not where everyone can see us!” Aoba gaped, eyes flitting around for any passersby that might have gotten a quick glance.

Koujaku simply hummed in the back of his throat and smirked. “It’s not a problem if people see. I’m being honest with my feelings about you.”

If Aoba’s face wasn’t red already, it definitely was now.

“Y-You… just go inside!” he grumbled, using his shoulder to push his boyfriend inside his apartment.

Aoba kept himself busy starting the preparations for dinner—skinning potatoes, setting water onto boil, cutting onions without making himself cry. All simple things he had seen Tae do a thousand times over. He could easily make a decent enough curry with enough time and patience. There were more apt holiday dishes, but Koujaku told him to make whatever he liked.

Next year, he thought to himself, he would make Koujaku a proper Christmas meal.

Slowly the smell of food wafted through Koujaku’s apartment, the scent warm and inviting, laced with spices and love. Whenever Koujaku tried to offer a hand to help, Aoba turned him down and forced him out of his kitchen. This was  _ his _ gift after all, and by his stubborn determination he wanted to make it by himself.

Once their meal had nearly reached completion, Aoba had started feeling proud of his work. He was never too good at cooking meals on his own, but Tae gave him a couple useful tips and tricks to make the cooking process go by smoothly. The broth looked delicious, as did the array of vegetables and meats simmering in the sauce.

This was one of the first times he had successfully pulled a meal together all by himself. He had to be proud of that.

He ladled out a little bit onto a tasting spoon and brought it close to his nose. The aroma was nice—faintly acidic but sweet. He wasn’t too sure most curries should smell like that but at least it didn’t smell toxic.

He brought the spoon to his lips…

And nearly spat it back out.

For how good it looked, the meal tasted  _ terrible _ . Everything was over-seasoned, too salty and bitter to discern any natural tastes from the other components of the curry.    
Aoba prodded the potatoes and carrots-- undercooked. He tasted the meat-- overcooked.

There was no way he could serve this to Koujaku and feel happy with himself. There was  _ no way _ that Koujaku could take a bite of this meal and enjoy it.

He really should have stuck with another gift as a backup, but now there was nothing he could do. Koujaku was starting to get impatient, shooting glances at Aoba whenever he walked past his kitchen to see if dinner was done.

And, as though his boyfriend had suddenly developed telepathic powers, Koujaku re-emerged again, grinning.

“Ah, is dinner almost done?” he asked, stepping closer towards Aoba. He shot a peek inside the cooking pot. “It looks good. Can I try it?”

“Ah, well…” Aoba rubbed the back of his neck, wincing slightly. He was caught in a corner with no real way to back out now— if he told Koujaku the truth that the food was terrible, he wouldn’t believe a word of it and insist on trying it. If Koujaku tried it regardless, he would find out soon enough how terrible it was.

“Can I not?” Koujaku’s brows furrowed together into a thin line. “Is something wrong?”   
“Uh… n-no… it’s just—” Aoba took a deep breath and sighed. “No, you can try it.”

He could just see the worst of it for himself. Making up a lie wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

Delighted, Koujaku took the dish and brought a hearty amount of curry to his lips, before drinking it whole.

Koujaku’s expression was unreadable—if he thought it was good, disgusting, somewhere in between… Aoba couldn’t tell. And not knowing started to set him on edge.

After a couple seconds, Koujaku blinked, then grinned.

“Delicious!” he praised, leaning in to take another sip of the sauce. “Is this what you would call… your taste? I like it.”

“… You can’t be serious,” Aoba sighed under his breath. This was  _ so bad _ … but maybe it was one of those dishes that tasted leaps and bounds better with alcohol. Maybe that’s what Koujaku was thinking—he honestly couldn’t have liked it any other way… could he?

Picking himself up with a fake bout of confidence, Aoba grinned back.

“I’m glad you like it!” he said, tone over-eager. He started to feel some grain of pride wrapped around all his embarrassment. “How about we have some sake with it?”

In any case, it was the only way  _ he _ could get through this dinner in one piece.

As they ate, Aoba couldn’t stop himself from feeling guilty. Koujaku looked like he showed no disgust—in fact, he looked like he genuinely enjoyed himself. Despite that, Aoba couldn’t stop feeling bad.

Every bite he took of the food felt like a punch in the stomach, not only because it tasted so… bitter, for lack of a better word, but also because he had ruined Koujaku’s gift.

But he didn’t want to spoil the night. He knew if he told Koujaku he would simply laugh and tell him it was fine. He would say something embarrassing like— _ I don’t mind, if it was made by Aoba it has to be good. _ Or something even more embarrassing that physically hurt to imagine.

He just had to think of the positives: Koujaku liked his meal, and seeing Koujaku happy made him happy.

Eventually his worries simmered away. With the help of the sake, he started to loosen up a bit. By the time they had both finished eating he was tipsy enough to not have a worry in the world:  he was laughing, smiling at Koujaku’s bad jokes, leaning his weight on him and stealing occasional kisses.

“I’ll clean up dinner,” Koujaku said while gathering up their dirty dishes into a neat pile. He looked up from the stacks of plates, caught Aoba’s eye, and smirked. “You can meet me in the bedroom, if you like.”

Aoba nearly choked on his drink. He  _ knew _ their night was going to amount to this regardless, but even so, the raw and untamed lust that flickered in the deep red of Koujaku’s eyes made his heart do unhealthy leaps and spins.

Shyly, he nodded once, quickly excusing himself towards Koujaku’s bedroom. His legs stumbled underneath him thanks to the sake.

Koujaku’s blankets and pillows were a welcome relief. He was starting to get overheated by the effort of cooking and the effects of alcohol. An ajar window behind the bed let a cool breeze pass in, chilling the room to a temperature that felt nice against his flushed skin.

He nestled into one of the pillows and closed his eyes. The fabric smelt like Koujaku—warm and inviting and loving. If he listened close enough, he could hear the sound of Koujaku humming as he cleaned up their meal.

“Koujaku…” Aoba muttered under his breath, turning on his side to face the side of the bed Koujaku claimed as his own. He tried to wash away his guilt but being all alone gave him time to think.

Had Koujaku only ate his dinner because Aoba had made it? … In some way, that was really sweet. Perhaps Koujaku had known that the food was atrocious but kept on eating it with a smile because Aoba had poured all his love into it.

Or maybe he was being too critical because he wanted his gift to be perfect.

Koujaku deserved more than just a meal. If he could, he would have given him the entire world as a gift. He could go out tomorrow and give him a proper Christmas gift. But that felt superficial, fake.

He wanted to return the gesture of love and kindness back. He just had to figure out how.

The rustling of sheets beside him pulled Aoba out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see Koujaku settled at his side, reaching for the ashtray on his window ledge and a pack of cigarettes.

“Do you mind…?” he began, but Aoba answered his question quickly enough with a shake of his head. Koujaku gave him a relaxed smile and brought a cigarette to his lips. The end sparked to life when he brought a flame to it, and tufts of violet fumes danced through the air and out into the open window.

Koujaku always smoked in peaceful times like this, filled with comfortable silence and long glances. If Aoba didn’t catch himself, he usually ended up staring, watching in awe as he smoked. He was always entranced by the way his fingers moved. They held his cigarette so gently, moved in an elegant dance back and forth between each draw.

Those fingers had been used for good. And they’ve been used for bad.

They’ve seen their share of malevolence, the scars on his fingers told that much. Yet, their long, sleek shape makes them desirable for his job—for running through hair, for neatly cutting off layers in skilled, precise lines, and for treating women with the utmost of care.

But more importantly than any of that, those fingers had been used for tender caresses and immense pleasure. Aoba shivered slightly as he recalled the way those fingers felt inside him, delicately and lovingly opening him wide and caressing where he felt it most.

Those fingers bore the weight of Koujaku’s past, wore the weight of his burdens, but Koujaku used them to do good and to show his love.

And Aoba wanted to return the gesture.

He closed the gap of space between their bodies, eyes wandering over Koujaku’s face longingly. Their eyes met as Koujaku exhaled a large fume of smoke… the earthy and dark smell of smoke mixed with Koujaku’s natural scent was tantalizing.

“Something on your mind?” Koujaku asked in a deep, sensual tone. He extinguished his cigarette in his ashtray then turned to face Aoba, lips curling into a suggestive smirk.   
“I was just thinking… your hands are really nice,” Aoba murmured. He grabbed one of Koujaku’s hands, wrapping his hand tight around his palm, thumb brushing along the ridges of his knuckles. He brought Koujaku’s hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it softly, showering an array of kisses along his knuckles as well.

He hesitated before kissing the scars, momentarily caught off guard by their garish appearance. The ghastly red marks clashed against the grace and elegance of the rest of his hands, but Aoba loved them just the same. These were the marks of his past, the curses cast upon him for greed, for hatred, without his consent. He would cherish the mistakes as much as he cherished the rest of him, without a moment of second thought.

Aoba kissed all the way up Koujaku’s fingers lovingly, giving each finger its fair share of attention before pausing. His eyes flicked up to Koujaku’s gaze and his heart stopped—the look he was wearing was of one of enjoyment, but hesitance resided in the corners. Aoba knew well enough, he was still conscious about the scars he bore. But he wanted to show him that he accepted Koujaku for all he was, he wanted to show  _ everything  _ to Koujaku.

Wanting to take that a step further, Aoba nipped at the pads of Koujaku’s fingers teasingly, then curled his lips around it, drawing his fingers deep inside his mouth.

His skin tasted like tobacco and smoke, but the warmth of his touch inside Aoba’s mouth was tantalizingly sweet. He peered up towards Koujaku’s face, and the shocked, yet unabashed blush growing on his cheeks made his heart swell with pride.

He took more of his finger inside his mouth and sucked hard, intertwining his tongue around it. He slowly pulled his finger back to add a second, third finger alongside the other.

He focused on them lovingly, pinning Koujaku’s wrist in place with his hand to restrain him. He flicked his tongue in between the gaps of Koujaku’s fingers, threatening to push them inside deep enough to touch the back of his throat. He didn’t mind the full feeling, or the taste of Koujaku’s fingers filling his mouth entirely—he found an odd sense of peace like this, while diligently sucking like his life depended on it.

Suddenly he felt a light tug on his hair—a warning signal to get his attention. He opened his eyes and glanced upwards; Koujaku’s face was entirely flushed by now, his breath heavy. He wore a look of pure lust, half-lidded eyes filled with such desire, flames of pure red danced about in the irises.

“A-Aoba,” his voice weakly called out. “If you do things like that, I... I don’t know if I’ll be able to restrain myself...”   
Aoba pulled his mouth away from Koujaku’s fingers with a loud pop, curling his lips in a smirk. “So don’t.” 

Koujaku returned the smirk, snorting under his breath. “What happened so suddenly, to make you like this…”   
“This is another part of your gift,” Aoba said while climbing into Koujaku’s lap. He could feel something brush against his thigh—he felt pride knowing Koujaku was already hard by sucking on his fingers alone. He wrapped his arms around Koujaku’s shoulders and leaned in for a long, lingering kiss.

He broke apart to grasp for air, brushing his lips against Koujaku’s. “I want to make you feel so good that you remember this forever.”   
Aoba winced at his own cheesiness, but Koujaku seemed to have taken it—if the slack-jawed look he gave Aoba was any indication. He laughed feebly despite himself but managed to pull himself together, focusing his attention on kissing him hard and deep in abandon.

Koujaku pried Aoba’s mouth open with his tongue, running it along the surface of his mouth. Aoba moaned at the intrusion but gladly accepted it. He opened his mouth wider and curled his tongue around Koujaku’s, giving it a hard suck before pushing deeper into their kiss.

In return, Koujaku filled Aoba’s mouth with a moan; then, to retaliate, his fingers began to fumble with the hem of Aoba’s shirt. He slowly pushed it upwards, unveiling his bare stomach to the cold air, all the way up to his chest. Koujaku pulled out of their kiss, ducking forwards to focus his attention on Aoba’s chest—lips playing with the sensitive area around his nipples, teeth nipping at the buds lightly.

The light teasing was enough to turn Aoba into putty in his hands. A faint jolt coursed down to his crotch, making the fabric strain against himself.

The layers of fabric between him and Koujaku were… annoying. They just got in the way, created an unnecessary barrier they both knew they wanted to strip themselves free of.

Taking initiative, Aoba pushed on Koujaku’s shoulders, pulling him away from his chest. He couldn’t help but laugh at the confused look he shot up at him.

“J-Just a minute,” he reasoned, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. He undid his buckle and the zipper of his jeans, slowly, teasingly working them free, leaving him bare in just his underwear.

Getting the message loud and clear, Koujaku began stripping him free of his clothing, piece by piece. Aoba had shown him a thousand times over how he loved Koujaku despite the tattoos he bore on his skin, but shedding the layers of clothing that hid them from the rest of the world was still a challenge. Aoba eagerly helped him, kissing along his shoulder, down his torso and his lower stomach.

Not wanting to waste a second, Aoba slid into place on Koujaku’s lap. He ran his thumb over the hardening inline of his cock, just barely visible in the line of his pants. A strange heat swelled up with Aoba at the sight, the spark of desire intensifying tenfold.

He pulled Koujaku’s pants down and wrapped his hand tight around his cock—he was even harder than he had thought, and a bead of precum had already formed at the head. Aoba leaned forward and licked it clean.

A hand immediately fastened itself in Aoba’s hair; he glanced up to find Koujaku was staring him down, his face erotically flushed and concerned.

“A-Aoba…” he began, gently running his hands through his hair. But he couldn’t find any other words to say, he remained staring, a gentle smile on the corners of his lips.

Aoba returned the smile. “Does it feel good?”

He chuckled, then brought his mouth back to Koujaku’s dick, and was rewarded with a gentle sigh like a moan. He took Koujaku’s length into his mouth slowly, savoring the taste of his skin and the feeling of warmth as he moved his cock in and out of his mouth. His cock hardened inside Aoba’s mouth, filling him faster than he intended. He nearly gagged when Koujaku thrust his hips in a little too deep and nearly rammed his dick into the back of his throat.

Aoba pulled his mouth off in an attempt to catch his breath, shooting an annoyed glare up at Koujaku.

“Be careful,” he hissed, rubbing at his throat, now sore. “I nearly choked.”   
“Sorry,” Koujaku laughed, petting Aoba’s hair lovingly. “It just felt so good, I got carried away. C’mere.”

He gestured for Aoba to settle in place in his lap, and he obliged. They resumed their kissing, albeit slower and gentler than before; all gentle displays of affection to make up for the distaste.

Koujaku pulled Aoba’s underwear down and clasped his length inside his hand, moving in slow, paced strokes in time with their kisses.

Aoba pulled out of their kiss and gasped when he felt something warm brush against his ass. He turned behind him to find Koujaku’s fingers, slick and glistening in the faint light of his bedroom, getting him accustomed to the feeling.

Koujaku ran his tongue along Aoba’s jaw as he brought a finger back to his ass, rubbing slowly before plunging the tip inside. Goosebumps appeared over the surface of Aoba’s skin, the feeling of fullness that overtook him as Koujaku moved in deeper stunning him into silence. He simply clung onto Koujaku’s shoulders, arms trembling slightly, as he let Koujaku prep him.

He opened him languidly, neither of them wanting to break the intense intimacy of this moment. The slow budding pleasure building in Aoba’s hips was too good to ask for anything more.

But impatience got the better of him, and the more Koujaku brushed his fingers against his prostate, the more he began to beg.

“I… I think I’m good,” Aoba panted, lifting his head to stare Koujaku directly in the eye. He nodded and pulled his fingers out of Aoba. They realigned themselves so Aoba hovered right above Koujaku’s painfully-hard cock, begging for some sort of stimulation.

Giving him just that, Aoba gripped his dick by the base to keep it in place. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then sunk his hips down, taking in as much of Koujaku as he could at once.

“Ah…” Aoba drew out the breath he had been holding and relaxed. The tinge of pain around his opening from the size of Koujaku’s cock, was almost too much to bear. It always was like that the first couple of thrusts, and Aoba acclimated to it quickly.

And the feeling of fullness, being full of  _ Koujaku _ , was too good to want to stop.

He started moving slowly, moving his hips in a gentle rocking motion—drawing Koujaku deeper inside him, then pulling out almost all the way. He continued doing this over and over, slowly building up speed as the pleasure intensified.

Despite how good it felt, Aoba’s attention was elsewhere. Yes, it felt amazing, but his voice… his voice was so loud, he couldn’t hear anything besides his own needy moans. It was embarrassing.

A sudden thought flitted in his mind and, as he thrust his hips down hard, he gripped tight onto Koujaku’s hand. The brief glimmer of confusion on his face faded away the moment Aoba brought his hand to his mouth, popping his index and middle finger back inside his mouth.

That way, he could keep himself quiet.

He worked his tongue around his fingers, pulling them apart to suckle and bite down on them, keeping his voice welled inside his own mouth. His moans wrapped around Koujaku’s fingers, remaining there and there alone. He peeled one eye open to see Koujaku’s eyes clenched closed, wearing a look of pure ecstasy.

But the pride settling deep inside him melted away just as fast.

Before he could react, Koujaku took control of his mouth by grabbing his tongue, pinching it between his two fingers. Aoba’s eyes shot wide open, searchingly finding Koujaku’s gaze.

“What… are you doing,” he mumbled around his fingers, a hand clawing at Koujaku’s wrist to pull his hand away.   
“Don’t hold… anything back,” Koujaku rasped in his ear, gently opening Aoba’s mouth wide with his two fingers. “L-Let me hear everything…”

He thrust deeper into Aoba, directing right where he felt it most; a loud, desperate whimper left Aoba’s lips without any chance of being covered.

Helpless, with no other option than to let Koujaku hear his voice, Aoba pulled Koujaku’s fingers out of his mouth, letting his voice be heard loud and clear. Instead of listening to himself, he focused on the growing pleasure instead, building up inside of him and begging for release.

Koujaku’s grip on his thighs hardened as they both moved quicker.

“A… hah… Aoba…”   
“K… Koujaku…  _ ah _ …”

Koujaku lifted his hand from Aoba’s thigh, looping their fingers together, gripping tight. He was close, too.

Aoba thrust down harder, at the same time pushed himself into Koujaku’s stomach for some sort of friction. The pleasure bubbling inside of him teetered towards his climax, and he felt himself getting lost within the waves of pleasure.

He arched his hips once, twice, then his mind went white with static, pleasure soaking him from all sides. Koujaku’s movements become less pointed, more frantic as he drew himself towards his own climax.

“A… Aoba… I’m— gonna— cum,” he hissed, grip tightening on Aoba’s hand. He pushed in deeper and faster until he hit his limit, cock pulsating inside Aoba, filling his cum deep within him.

They remained entranced like that, breath heavy, heads spinning, as they basked in the last of the pleasure. Wearily, Aoba raised his hips and pulled himself off, landing inside the heaps of blankets and pillows thrown to the side. He remained completely still until he caught his breath, until he was certain semen wouldn’t start dripping down his thighs, until he felt daring enough to turn his head to the side to look at his boyfriend.

He slowly craned his head to the side and their eyes met. They gave each other the faintest of smiles.

Koujaku blinked with a moment of realization. “Ah, I almost forgot to give you your gift.”   
He turned to the side of his bed and rummaged around, finding an ornately wrapped gift—red wrapping paper, a bright green, ornate ribbon fastened around the box. He loosened the bow and pulled off the top, revealing the gift inside:

A hairpin. Practically identical to the one Koujaku wore in his hair, the one piece of his mother he kept to cherish her by.

And he was sharing that—with  _ Aoba.  _ He would always have a piece of Koujaku to carry around with him.

His voice caught in his throat, both in surprise and in awe. Love filled his chest, making it hard to breathe or think.

“Do you like it?” Koujaku asked, smiling softly as he took the pin out of the box. Being unable to speak, Aoba nodded fervently; at that, Koujaku tucked the pin into place behind Aoba’s ear, holding back the hair falling into his face.   
“Thank you,” Aoba said, thumbing over the smooth texture of the wood. He felt something warm welling up in the corners of his eyes; he wiped them away hastily. “Hah… sorry…”   
“It’s alright.” Koujaku paused, admiring Aoba’s appearance. “It looks good on you.”

He nestled back into place and pulled Aoba into a tight hug, nestling his face into the crook of his shoulder, lips brushing against the side of his neck. They remained in their silent embrace for several moments, before Aoba sighed and pulled away a little.

“Can I ask you something?” he said feebly. Koujaku nodded. “... Dinner was awful, wasn’t it?”    
Koujaku hesitated, face screwed up tight. After a moment he nodded, sadly. “It was-- I mean-- Well, I appreciate that you made it for me.”

Guilt crept up on Aoba again, sitting uncomfortably on his chest. He balled his hands into fists and turned his face away. “I’m sorry. Your gift wasn’t as great as I wanted it to be…”

“It’s okay,” Koujaku said, chuckling. He drew Aoba back to his side to kiss the top of his head. “ _ You’re _ my gift this year.”   
“Ha…”

Aoba stared at him like he had grown some sort of third eye or suddenly spoke in a long-dead language, before realization set in. He glowered and his face went cherry red, defensively shouldering him in the stomach.

“Y-you  _ hippo _ !” He barked, aiming one of his pillows directly at Koujaku’s face. “You’re  _ so embarrassing _ !”

Koujaku roared with laughter and pinned Aoba down, using his arms as a cage to entrap him in. He lovingly kissed all the places beginning to blossom red—his cheeks, neck, chest, and further downwards.

Even though Aoba would never will himself to say it out loud, he shared the same sentiment as Koujaku:  _ he  _ was his gift, too. He knew that from the start, knew from the moment he thought about sharing Christmas Eve with him and him alone.

And for that, he couldn’t have asked for a better gift.

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the fic comes from this song, by the godfather of Christmas himself: [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PyGmuxx4wSs)


End file.
